Category Archives: Christian Poetry

Speak The Name Of Jesus Christ, Name Above All Names, King Of Kings And Lord Of Lords by Debbie Harris

27 Sunday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Triumphant

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Dear Reader,

The church cannot be quiet anymore. What was given as a charge has been treated as a secret. We were never told to keep the Name in the sanctuary and leave it at the door. Speak the name of Jesus everywhere you go. No other name can save a soul from sin. What darkness lives in any rule that seals that precious Name and will not let it in? They have called it wisdom: the heinous, untrue, demonic idea of a wall between church and state. It is not even historically true. It was never the gospel’s idea that Christ should be confessed in private and denied in public. Silence is the gift the enemy wants most. Saints, do not grow quiet. The church was never meant to whisper this. Speak the name of Jesus.

From the Poet

Speak the name of Jesus everywhere you go.
No other name can save a soul from sin.
What darkness lives in any rule that seals
that precious Name and will not let it in.

Speak the name of Jesus.

Speak it in the valley when the dark is close.
Speak it on the mountain when the air is thin.
Speak it at the kitchen table, in the hospital hall,
at the graveside, in the boardroom, in the street.

Speak the name of Jesus.

There is no name like Jesus—
name above all names,
King of kings and Lord of lords.
Let every tongue confess it. Let every fear give way.

Speak the name of Jesus.

Saints, do not grow quiet.
The church was never meant to whisper this.
Silence is the gift the enemy wants most.

So go—
and speak the name of Jesus wherever you go.

**To God be the glory always and only.

Sound the Trumpets of the Realm: The King Has Come and Claimed His Own by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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To the Reader

Scripture is a book of hope. From the first promise to the last Amen it speaks of rescue, light, and a King who does not abandon the lost. That hope is not scattered among many saviors. It is gathered into one Name. “There is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” The gates lift in Psalm 24 for the King of glory; the tomb gives way because Christ is risen; the debt is cancelled because His blood speaks a better word than the grave. This poem is that hope set to a trumpet.

My hope in writing is simple and urgent: that every soul may find the salvation-hope that is found in Jesus Christ alone. The cry “O every soul” is the same mercy that leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one. He is the living Savior, calling every soul today to repent and believe in Jesus Christ alone.

—The Poet

Psalm 24:7

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Acts 4:12

Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.

Lift up the gates—the King has come!

The tomb is burst, the night undone.

No other hope, no rival name

Can stand before His burning claim.

He stormed the dark with wounds for crown,

He tore the bars, the debt went down.

His blood has signed the sinner free—

The Lord of lords in victory.

O every soul, the trumpet cries:

Behold the Savior, lift your eyes!

Jesus, the First, the Last, the Son—

The only Hope, the triumph won.

**To God be the glory always and only.

A Sonnet of Sudden Glory: One Breath on Earth, the Next Before the Throne by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Triumphant

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

Since my mother went Home, I have found myself writing again and again about the triumph waiting for the true believer. This sonnet rose from that hope: that death is not a long night, but only a change of breath—one still drawn on earth, the next already before the Throne. I offer them in gratitude, in sorrow, and in triumphant joy, knowing we do not grieve as those who have no hope.

—The Poet

1 Thessalonians 4:13–14

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.

There is no sting. The Christian does not die

so much as change the air that fills the lung.

One breath is dust; the next, a brighter sky

already singing what the grave unsung.

The body drops its borrowed coat of clay;

the soul steps through as through an opened door.

No interval of dark, no wandering way—

earth’s final gasp is Heaven’s corridor.

Death comes like thunder that has lost its crack,

a shadow startled by too sudden sun.

The stone rolls inward on an empty track;

the race is finished ere it is begun.

O Death, thy needle snaps against the bone.

We breathe once here—and wake before the Throne.

Corinthians 15:55–57

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.

But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

If you later want one more on a separate page, not under this poem:

John 11:25–26

Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?

**To God be the glory always and only.

Alleluia by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Praise, salvation, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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Dear reader,

I was just overwhelmed by the benefits God gives us.

Scripture says He has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing, and that our inheritance is kept in heaven, unfading and undefiled. The Gospel does not hand us a small comfort. It gives us forgiveness of sins, peace with God, adoption into His household, a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and a joy no one can take from us. We are children of the King of Kings. “The Lord is my portion,” the Scriptures say, and “we are His people, the sheep of His pasture.” Nothing—neither death nor life nor anything else in all creation—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

That is why I wrote this. The treasure is Jesus. We are His, and He is ours. I could not keep the praise in.

Alleluia.

—The Poet

Ephesians 1:3

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ.

1 Peter 1:3-4

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you.

Romans 5:1

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

John 16:22

And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.

Romans 8:38-39

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Revelation 19:16

And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.

The glorious, beauty-filled, transformative Gospels

give us ceaseless joy—

triumph, beauty, love, forgiveness,

a Trinitarian community,

a victorious hope

that can never, no ever, be taken away.

Rest in our Savior’s excellent provision.

Rejoice, sons and daughters

of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

We are His, and He is ours.

The treasure is Jesus Christ our Lord.

Rejoice and shout

Alleluia.

Alleluia.

Alleluia.

Against Syncretism: How a Mixed Gospel Becomes No Gospel at All by Debbie Harris

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Spiritual Warfare, Taking A Stand Against Evil

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A Note from the Poet to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This verse is not offered as ornament, nor as a clever quarrel with the age. It is a warning. The Holy Triune God has given one gospel, and that gospel will not bear another lord, another law, another hope, or another holiness beside Christ.

What men call breadth is often unbelief with better manners. Progressivism, liberalism, Rome’s additions, the paths of Hinduism and Buddhism, the dreams of socialism, Marxism, and the commune, together with every immorality that refuses repentance—these are not cousins of Biblical Christianity. They are strange fire. To bind them to the cross is to unmake the cross. The mixture is not a larger faith. It is another gospel. Another gospel is no gospel. And a false gospel, however crowded its pews and however loud its hymns, still sends souls to hell.

Read, then, not to admire the rhyme, but to test the foundation. If Christ is not enough, nothing else will save. If Scripture is not sufficient, no council, party, or philosophy can repair it. Keep the faith unmixed. Guard the deposit. Do not marry the Bride to a banner God never raised.

The Poet

Do not yoke the cross with banners men have raised,

nor pour strange fire where only God is praised.

Progressive creeds and liberal softening speech

cannot baptize the gospel they would teach.

Rome cannot finish what the Lord has done;

Hindu wheels turn, Buddhist silence has no Son.

Socialist dreams, the Marxist banner red,

the commune’s hope—these leave the living dead.

Immorality wears no kind or borrowed face;

it walks in hellish clothes and claims no grace.

What God has named anathema stays banned;

no mixture sits unjudged before His hand.

The gospel is not clay for other hands,

nor cargo-hold for platforms, parties, plans.

It is Christ crucified, the empty grave,

repentance, faith—the only word that saves.

Scripture sufficient, grace that none can earn,

holiness required till He return.

Add other ground and you have built in vain;

the house is His no more, the faith is slain.

Syncretism is not charity or light;

another gospel is no gospel right.

It soothes the lost, it flatters every age,

and sings them hellward from a crowded stage.

The Triune God will not divide His throne

with saints or systems He has never known.

Guard the deposit; keep the Bride unwed

to any lord but Christ, the living Head.

Christ plus nothing. Mix it, and it dies.

The false gospel sends souls to hell with hymns and lies.

**To God be the glory always and only!

Make His Salvation Known from Shore to Shore by Debbie Harris

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, salvation

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were written for one purpose: that Christ would be made known, and that His salvation would be seen for what it is—a gift, freely given.

The earth still groans. The night still thickens, just as Jesus said it would. Yet the Cross has not moved. The door has not closed. The wounded King still offers what no one can earn.

If these words find you weary, take them as an invitation. If they find you already His, take them as a charge: speak His name while the hours remain.

Glory to Jesus.

—The Poet

Ephesians 2:8-9

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.

Romans 6:23

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Romans 8:22

For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.

Matthew 24:12

And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.

John 16:33

In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

Galatians 6:14

But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.

1 Corinthians 1:18

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.

Mark 16:15

And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.

John 12:32

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.

2 Corinthians 6:2

Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Let Christ be lifted, let His gift be told—

Jesus given freely, not bought, not sold.

The earth still labors, bound and torn,

All creation groaning, waiting to be born.

Night thickens now, as the Savior spoke,

Yet the Cross stands open, the darkness broke.

Glory to Jesus, the Wounded King,

Whose blood made beggars heirs of everything.

So speak it plainly while the hours remain:

The gift is free, the door is not in vain.

Make Christ be known from shore to shore—

Till every groan is answered, and night is no more.

**To God be the glory always and only.

What Wonders They Are Seeing Now by Debbie Harris

20 Sunday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Inspirational

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Dear Reader,


If you have not lost a parent, this may sound like church language laid over an absence. If you have, you will hear the pause between the giving and the taking. That pause is the whole poem. I repeat the words because once is not enough, and because Job said them first, standing in a ruin, and somehow they did not break. I am trying to stand the same way. Blessed be the name—not as a denial of tears, but as a way to keep speaking while the tears are still coming.

Job 1:21
The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

Revelation 21:4
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore.

The Lord gives.
The Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

If it is a mother He takes—
the Lord gives,
the Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

If it is a father—
the Lord gives,
the Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

Yes, we grieve.
We are earthly still,
and made of dust.But oh—
what wonders they are seeing now.
What company of the holy
leans in to speak with them.
What bodies they wear:
glorified,
healed,
whole,
and young.

No more pain.
No more suffering.
No more weight of the world
on the shoulders we knew.

They are with their Creator.

The Lord gives.
The Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

**To God be the glory always and only!

When Grief Is Greater Than Action by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry

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Dear Reader,

This poem came from a day when grief was greater than action. I was not looking for a way around it, and I was not trying to leave it behind. I was simply in it. In that place, God did not wait for me to become strong first. He became my strength—not only for the day, but for every moment inside it. Present. Sufficient. Triumphant even while the grief remained.

I have come to believe this is the kind of reliance God wants from us: not strength we manufacture, but strength we receive. Hour by hour. Moment by moment.

If you are standing in a stillness like that, I wrote this for you. You do not have to produce the next step. God can be the strength of every day and every moment. Through Christ, we can indeed be triumphant.

— the poet

Deuteronomy 33:25
Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.

When grief is

greater than action,

God then becomes

our triumphant strength.

**To God be the glory always and only.

Let All We Are Be Praise by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry

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Dear Reader,

I have seen how great God is in grief.


I have seen Him provide in ways I never thought possible.


I have seen His tender care rest over those near and dear to me.

From that seeing, this poem was born.It did not come from a life untouched by sorrow, but from the quiet places where He met us still—where He held what we could not hold, and gave what we did not know how to ask for. These lines are only a small offering of thanks: that even ordinary hours, even aching hours, may become a hymn of praise.

May they lead you not to the poem, but to Him.— The Poet

Psalm 34:1
I will bless the LORD at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.

Habakkuk 3:17–18
Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4
Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.

Psalm 147:3
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.

May every part of us become a song—
the work, the waiting, the word we speak,
the quiet rooms, the crowded street,
the strength we give, the rest we keep.

Not only lifted voices in the night,
but how we walk and how we stay,
how we receive what comes our way,
how we endure, how we obey.

Let joy be music, let sorrow be too,
let ordinary hours rise and ring.
May all we are, in everything,
be hymn and offering unto You.

For My Mother, Who Made Words and Loved the Word by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in A Loving Tribute, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible

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Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This poem was written after the death of my mother. She was a professor, a Shakespearean actress, a writer, and, above all, a passionate follower of Jesus Christ. I wanted to tell the truth about missing her without letting grief have the last word.

She made words for a living, and she loved the Word. What she taught did not end when her voice did. It remains in her students and in her children. The poem tries to hold both things at once: that the Lord gives, and the Lord takes, and that His name is still to be blessed.

If you have loved someone and lost them, I hope you can borrow the peace this poem asks for—the peace He gives, and we take as a gift.

The Poet

Job 1:21

Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

Philippians 4:7

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.

Revelation 21:5

And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.

She taught the line until the line could stand,

and spoke old verse with a sure, living hand.

The classroom keeps the brightness of her mind;

the stage still knows the measure she designed.

Professor, actress, maker of the word—

and more than these, a follower of her Lord.

She loved the Christ she named in work and days;

her passion was not pose, but prayer and praise.

Not only silence after she is gone:

Christ is the morning she is gathered on.

Her laugh remains in ordinary air;

her faith still kindles, living, otherwhere—

in students who still hear her in the line,

in children carrying her light as theirs.

The script may close, the costume find its place,

yet all she gave still lives in victorious grace.

O Savior, comfort, hope that does not cease,

You give the heart an unexpected peace—

a peace that passes all we understand,

yet given still; we take it from Your hand.

The Lord who gives, the Lord who takes,

blessed be His name, for love’s own sake,

now and forever, and for her sake too,

held in the light that makes all things new.

**To God be the glory always and only.